


Under pain of death

by AngelSquared



Category: N/A - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 13:01:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19906120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelSquared/pseuds/AngelSquared
Summary: Even the dead need a guide. Unfortunately there usually isn’t suppose to be a demon involved.





	Under pain of death

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first story I’ve posted anywhere for anyone to read. Please be honest and tell me what you think.

Under pain of death  
By: AngelSquared 

You can live a hundred years and accomplish much  
You can live a thousand years and accomplish little  
You can live for eternity and accomplish nothing  
For it is only under pain of death that we ever truly live

Prologue 

I never understood why people hated death, he wasn’t a bad guy. I mean sure he dressed a little strangely, the hood and cloak look certainly wasn’t for everybody, but he was a nice enough fellow. He only ever spoke kind words to the souls he judged, even if they weren’t destined for the happiest times ahead. He was understanding and gentle and an all around saint if you will. So why was it that whenever people talked about him it’s always in a negative light? I mean I suppose I am a bit biased but who can blame me? Wouldn’t you be if they talked that way about your dad?  
Hi, my name is Curare and in case you haven’t guessed by now, I'm the daughter of death, well one of them. I know, I know, “daughter of death?! You mean death like-” yes that death, the one with the big scythe and the cold hands. I am a reaper along with my countless other brothers and sisters, that means that we are the ones who go collect dying souls for dear old dad to judge. Its an interesting enough job but after a few millennia it gets kind of repetitive: get the soul order, find the host, convince the soul to come with you, take it by force if it refuses, bring it to the judgment hall, take it to it’s final resting pace, repeat. After a while you just go through the motions like a mindless worker bee, it gets depressing. The only fun we ever get to have on the job is when a soul refuses to come with us willingly, then we get to take it by force.  
Each reaper has two tools to help it capture unwilling souls, a familiar and death blade. A familiar is a magical animal or being, created out of shadows, that is connected to you by an emotional link, they are also tied to your life force so they never die. They are extensions of you, able to obey commands given by thought, teleport to your side from any distance, and they can turn invisible, although that’s just to make them more intimidating.It used to be, back in ancient times, that all of the familiars were hell hounds, but as the times evolved so did the reapers and now when a reaper is born they get to create whatever companion they want. Mine is a dire wolf named fenrir, I always loved norse mythology, and he’s the size of a horse. The other tool is something called a death blade. You may be familiar with my father’s, you know, long pole with a huge curved blade? Anyway, as is the way with the familiars, each reaper has a unique death blade that they have created. The only difference is that reapers can have more than one death blade throughout their existence and so most reapers have totally customized weapons of mass destruction that they have spent thousands of years fine tuning. I knew this one guy who had a chainsaw that was also a shotgun! How sick is that? I wish I could say mine was that wild, but alas, I had to be boring and follow in my dad’s footsteps, That’s right, I went with a scythe. Now to be fair it isn’t just a scythe, it also turns into a bow and arrows. Both the scythe and bow are created out of shadows and I made sure everybody could tell. They are pitch black with tendrils of darkness writhing out of them like hands ready to swallow you into the vast nothingness. I also have a unique way of carrying it while i’m not using it. While some have sheaths or quivers i have a tattoo. When i do not need my scythe it’s shadow energy transforms itself into one of ink and it creates a beautifully intricate tattoo of a scythe on my right forearm, with the staff starting at the elbow and the blade curving around my wrist. This makes it convenient to retrieve when i need it. By summoning it’s power and willing it to manifest it changes, appearing to grow out of my arm until i hold it in my hand. It is very effective and useful in battle and soul collection.  
When a soul refuses to come with us we use our death blades to pierce their hearts, which effectively immobilizes them, then our familiars drag them to the hall of judgment where our father decides their fate by reading their hearts. And believe it or not, an uncooperative soul is just what this story is about. Or more precisely, how it screwed my life up forever.

Curare  
“Wake up you overgrown lump, it’s past noon!”

I opened my eyes slowly, groaning as I did so and turned to find a bleary looking girl shaking my arms. I rubbed my eyes and looked up. There she stood with a stern look contorting her soft features. She was glaring down at me with her hands on her hips tapping her foot against the cool marble floor.  
“What time is it?” I asked sitting up.  
“I just told you, it’s past noon. I thought for sure you were dead.” she moved slightly to give me space to stand up.  
I rose on sore legs, still tired from sleep, and walked to the dresser at the far end of the room. As I pulled clothes out of drawers, Trixi walked over to stand beside me. She was several inches shorter than me and had short dark hair that spiked out of her blood red bandana at odd places. Other than that, she was wearing all black, with short combat pants and boots and a simple black tank top, her standard reaping outfit. I turned to meet her moss green eyes and noticed she was currently biting her lip, a habit when she is nervous or lying.

“What’s wrong Trix?”  
She glanced up, not meeting my eyes and said, “Oh it’s nothing really, father just told me something is all. Nothing to worry about.”  
“Alright if you say so.”  
I knew she was hiding something but I also knew that if I pressed the matter she would shut down all together. No, I had to find out a different way, I had to go see my father.  
After I finished dressing in my reaping clothes, black jeans with a black tank top and leather jacket, I headed over to a huge bed in the corner. My day of reaping began in half an hour and I needed my partner to wake up before then. Fenrir didn’t so much as twitch when I called his name, although I could tell he had woken up because his breathing sped up. I went to collect my scythe that was hanging next to him on the wall, while gently kicking him in the stomach. Eventually, after five minutes of persuading, and the occasional kick in the rump, he sat, stretching his massive body out, and growled quietly at me.  
“Hey I don’t like this anymore than you do but I need to talk to father before we leave so we have to get a move on.”  
I touched my scythe to my arm and watched as it sank to meld with my skin. Once it was away, I turned, gave fenrir a scratch behind the ear, and walked towards the door. Trixi was waiting in the hallway just outside, leaned against one wall, slowly feeding the black raven that always seemed to be perched on her shoulder. I walked to stand beside her slowly, still dragging my body as it rushed to catch up to my brain. Together we turned and headed down the hallway toward to giant black doors at the end. We stopped in front of them, preparing ourselves to begin the long day ahead.  
“I’ll catch up yeah?” I said already walking backwards down the hall.  
I reached the office at the end of the hall and gently knocked on the door.  
“Come in”  
Leaving Fenrir outside I walked through the doors into a large round office with a dark claw legged desk in the middle. On either side of the desk sat a massive black beast with glowing red eyes, hellhounds. But they weren’t half as intimidating as their master, sat in a high back chair was the man himself, dark hood covering what many of us believe to be a shadow instead of an actual face and long billowing drapes with a skeletal hand protruding from them. He was leaning over a piece of parchment scribbling with a quill, that he didn’t set down until he was finished writing. I sat waiting until he was done, eyeing the letter and trying to figure out who he was writing to. Eventually he set the quill back in it’s ink bottle, rolled up the parchment and stuck it into the air where it disappeared, swallowed by the shadows. Finally he sat back in his chair and turned his hooded face towards me.  
“What is it my child?”  
His voice was smooth and calming as you might expect of one who convinces people to die for a living.  
“Uh Trix- I mean Trixi said you talked to her about something and it seemed to be troubling her. I was wondering what was wrong and I came to ask you since she wouldn’t tell me.”  
I was grateful my voice sounded so confident in front of a man I so needed to please, when I was a little panicked about what answer my question might bring.”  
“Ah yes,” he said thoughtfully, “Trixi did seem a little nervous about the whole ordeal when she and the others left.”  
“Others?” so there were more who knew what was going on?  
“Yes,” he confirmed, “ Others, your brothers and sisters were all called in for a special announcement.”  
“What sort of announcement? Why wasn’t I informed?” I couldn’t keep the annoyance out of my voice. Why had everyone but me been told?  
“Because my darling daughter,” he said, as if reading my thoughts, “you were the only one still asleep.”  
“Oh”  
Of course I was, I was always the one who disregarded the rules and sept until someone woke me up.  
“So what was the meeting about?”  
“A deal with the devil.”  
No this is not an expression for us, if father says he made a deal with the devil it means he actually went down to hell and made some kind of agreement with lucifer. Talk about human prejudice, I mean they didn’t like my dad but they absolutely hated lucifer. Honestly I kind of like him,yes he’s quite cavalier but he is also very suave and witty and let’s be honest, very pleasing to the eye. I have no idea where humans came up with the idea that the devil was an ugly red monster with a tail, I mean come on, he is an angel after all. He always wears a tailored suit and he is most certainly not red and doesn’t have a tail. He is very striking and desirable, after all he is the incarnation of temptation itself. Although I liked the devil himself, I did not like his children, the demons. They were very crass and revealed in pain and suffering with a very noticeable lust. They were not charming like their father nor were they as reserved as him when it came to foolish and unnecessary suffering. I hoped that whatever deal Lucifer and my father made did not involve them.  
“What were the terms of this deal?”  
“The devil has proposed that the reapers and the demons team up, afterall the number of unwilling souls almost directly correlates with the number of souls going to his domain. He proposes that the reapers and demons be paired off together in order to speed up the process and bypass all the unnecessary trips to hell.”  
My heart sank, just my luck that the one thing I didn’t want to happen was of course what would come to pass.  
“Father!” I said rather more forcefully than intended, “ you can’t be serious. How can you expect to trust the demons? They have no regard for the human soul. It needs to be handled gently and with kindness. The demons have no concept of either of those words!”  
“The demons will not intervene with souls who are not going to hell, therefore, there is no reason to be concerned about the souls.”  
“But father a demon partner will just slow us down, plus what happens if one of them goes off the rails and something happens, what will lucifer do if one of us has to stop his child?”  
“This problem is exactly why I am pairing you with the current leader of this particular horde. I expect you to keep an eye on him and report back to me, but be careful because I am sure he has similar orders. His name is Azazel, and he will be here in two hours.”  
I sat there, stunned, unsure if I was more angry at the devil for proposing the deal or at my father for agreeing to it. After a short debate and a lot of self pity inside my head I nodded, my sense of duty outweighing my dread. I stood and turned to leave, at the door a thought occurred to me and I turned back.  
“Where am I meeting him?”  
“At death's door.”  
Without a word, I turned and left.

Azazel

An hour. That’s how long I’d been waiting. My feet were sore and the view of a big ugly door was starting to annoy me. She should have been here by now, apparently death’s daughter was  
too important to be here on time. As I paced the length of the door for what felt like the millionth time, a low growl came from down the hall. I looked up to find the meanest looking cow I’d ever seen coming towards me, teeth bared. the monstrous beast padded down the hall, growing until it came to a halt 5 feet from where I stood. It was only then did I notice the girl next to it, a few inches shorter than me, with long raven hair and ice blue eyes. She was dressed like she was going to rob a bank, or attend a biker funeral. I felt a cold chill as i appraised her, and I looked up into hostile eyes, she was glaring daggers. Jeez, who got her panties in a twist? I grinned.  
“What's with the cow?”  
She didn’t respond, instead she took out a long piece of what looked like moldy paper and stared at it for a few moments before tucking it back into her jacket.  
“First one is an old man, 86,” she said, “shouldn’t be a problem, you can stay here.”  
Her face was passive but her tone made it quite clear that she did not welcome my company. Just as well too, because I wasn’t exactly looking forward to being some, goody to shoes, holier than thou, reaper’s chaperone for the foreseeable future. But I had my orders, and my father wasn’t the kind of man you said no to.  
“Thanks sweetheart but I think I’ll tag along.”  
She rolled her eyes so hard I thought they would pop out of her head.  
“Fantastic. Fine if you insist, stay out of my way and don’t mess with the soul.”  
What did she think I was going to do, eat it?  
“Im Curare” she said, “ but I assume you already knew that.”  
“Just like I’m sure you already know my name.”  
She was right of course, I did already know her name. I had been briefed on her before we met. I knew she was a reaper, she was one of death’s favorites which was odd given her age, I knew her huge cow was a familiar and the tattoo on her arm was more than a pretty picture. I knew she had a sister named Trixi who she was quite fond of, and I knew that I was suppose to keep tabs on her and report back to my father.  
“So how is this suppose to work?” I said,eyeing the huge cow.  
It was staring at me with its ugly mug pushed up into a nasty smile.  
“Do we ride that thing?”  
“That thing is a dire wolf not a cow,” she said, clearly annoyed, “his name is fenrir and if you want to try and ride him go ahead, he hasn’t had breakfast yet so I’m sure he’s hungry.”  
The cow barked in approval.  
Passing through Death’s door was a awful experience. It was like being squeezed into jelly and pushed through a straw only to be pushed back into a human mold and frozen. Picture walking through a foggy tunnel, only instead of a light at the end there is only more gloom, and instead of a leisurely stroll, the air around you is trying to squeeze you to death(pun intended). I never imagined dying would be fun, so i wasn't expecting to walk through a carnival, but this was disgusting. Curare, however, strode through it, cow at heel, like it was the most natural thing in the world. I suppose when you've been doing it as long as she has, and being, you know, born into it, gives you an edge, but it was still unfair.  
After what felt like an eon we suddenly popped out the other side, there was no door like the beginning, instead we just kinda poofed into being. Don't ask me to explain, i have no idea, that's a question for goth macgyver over there. We were in some hell hole, yes i mean that literally. Hot as balls, and sun that could roast a spiders ass. Nothing around but red sand and desperation.  
“Where are we?” i asked  
“Arizona”  
So i was right. Hell.  
“So how does this work? Do we just wait for the old bat to fall and break her neck or what?”  
Curare did not respond. Instead she turned and strode off into the desert. Reluctantly i wandered after her. What was the old fool doing out here, maybe he got lost on his way to shuffle board. I smirked, im so funny.  
“What are you smiling about?”  
Holy shit. The first words to come out of death Jr. since we entered deaths door a good century ago.  
“Nothing to concern yourself with sweet cheeks, just admiring the view.”  
Mistake. Curare spun faster than i thought possible, and something sharp pressed into my neck.  
“If you value your pathetic little existence i suggest you never call me that again.”  
I wasn't paying attention, i was more concerned with the dagger that was currently against my neck. A demon blade. Where did she get that? They never left hell. Used for punishing the worst humans, or for when father punished us, demon blades were made from metal forged in the hell fires, the only weapon able to permanently kill a demon.  
Panic overcame me, i didnt think, i simply spun away, swiftly kicking behind me as i did. I heard a gasp and when i looked back Curare was on the ground, the wind knocked out of her. Only then did i realize my error, as the growl rose to a defining volume, and heat brushed my head. I looked up into the eyes of that damned cow, his giant teeth bared, and waited for him to bite my head off.  
“No Fenrir”  
Confused, we both glanced at Curare. She was glaring at me, but her hand was held up in a decisive manner towards the beast beside me. The great thing paused, presumably he had the same thought i had, he tilted his head, as if debating, then finally dropped his hackles and slinked over to her side, eyeing me the whole time.  
“Why did you do that?” i asked, the confusion in my voice.  
“Orders” was my only reply.  
Without another word, she turned away and started again into the sea of sand.

CURARE

It was some time after the incident with azazel, and thank the maker we were approaching the target. The old man lived in a small shack on the outskirts of an even smaller town, if you could call it that. The town consisted of a square which housed the church, the odd stores, and an old firehouse, and was surrounded by about a dozen houses. The shack itself was about the size of a shed, made of old rusty metal, and a broken in roof that definitely leaked in the rain. As we approached we could hear a television playing some game show inside.  
“So what now?” Asked Azazel, leaning against a telephone pole 40 paces from the house.  
“Now you stay here and watch me do my job” and without another word I twisted on my heel and marched toward the door.  
Soul catching is a very delicate process, every soul is different and requires a different hand to guide them.


End file.
